


Some Things You Gotta Know

by drosophilase



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-25
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drosophilase/pseuds/drosophilase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jealous!Darren at the Snixxxmas Party.  Warning: mentions of Will, although at the time I wrote it I had no idea that’s who he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things You Gotta Know

He’s doing it again.

Darren finishes off his third drink of the night, swallowing hard and never taking his eyes off Chris.  And Chris is  _posing_ , surrounded by friends he’s never introduced Darren to and posing like the supermodel he could be. 

He’s been such a fucking tease all night, effortlessly working his way around the room, flirting and touching and letting himself be touched by men and women alike.  Darren is breathlessly, intensely jealous of every single one of them.

It’s not his fault, not technically.  It’s just that this isn’t the place to relax into themselves, not in a room full of people they barely know who have cameras on their phones and the power to upload a tweet that could end the world as they know it.  He’s  _told_  Chris this, they discussed it just the last week.  Chris had assured him that he agreed with a sweet smile and a kiss, Darren had returned both, and that was the end of it. 

Darren thought they had an understanding, but now Chris is taking full advantage of the fact that Darren is seething with jealousy and physically can’t do anything about it.

Taking his fourth drink off the tray of a passing waiter, Darren tries to act naturally, tries to get back into the conversation he spaced out of.  Harry’s giving him a knowing glance but Darren shrugs it off, looking determinedly at Naya and  _not_ across the room.

He’s almost completely calmed, knowing in just a few hours they’ll be back home and out of this fishbowl of a party, when raucous laughter turns his head involuntarily.  And oh  _Christ_ , now they’re on the floor and Chris is in front of a camera phone striking poses again, like he does when the vodka starts flowing.  He’s posing and god he’s  _flaunting_  the beaded bracelet on his wrist.  The very one he took in the car right before he got out with a peck to Darren’s lips, a silent reminder to get him through the night, and the car drove around the block before it delivered Darren at the steps of Naya’s house.

Darren almost smiles, because even if they can’t be open in front of all these people at least a part of him is on Chris.  And  _damn_  Chris looks good like this— on the loose, happy side of tipsy, with that flush just rising in his cheeks and his hair starting to come undone, enjoying himself and letting his social butterfly wings stretch a little.

And he doesn’t realize he’s totally eyefucking Chris until he finally looks up from that bracelet, dark against his skin, up past the deliciously hard muscles of his forearm and bicep hidden under that sweater, up his flawless neck that’s begging for a new mark to replace the nearly-invisible faded bruises Darren put there last week, over the jawline that haunts Darren’s every fantasy to—  _fuck_ , Darren was staring.  And Chris knew it, staring right back with a half-formed smirk like he had been watching Darren look at him for a while now.

No, not look.   _Eyefuck._

The challenge in Chris’s eyes is too good to pass up, and Darren doesn’t look away this time.  He faintly registers Chris shifting to let other people in the frame, never breaking the stare as whoever-the-fuck rearranges themselves around him for the picture.  Someone jostles Darren’s shoulder and he’s about to turn to apologize for being in the way when— _no_.  Who the  _fuck_ —

Chris’s smirk is almost a pout, his eyes bright,  _daring_  him to do something about the bastard with the audacity to move in next to Chris.  Doesn’t he  _know_ , doesn’t he— his face, all tickled pink to be so close to  _the_  Chris Colfer, tells Darren that he doesn’t know.  How could he, when they are so careful to hide under the radar, to not draw attention, to skirt around anyone and everyone who might suspect the truth?

As the camera flashes, that forward  _asshole_  hooks his chin over Chris’s shoulder.

Darren is absolutely  _livid_ , throwing his empty glass onto the nearest flat surface and knocking two ice cubes out in the process.  With one last hard look to Chris’s expressionless face he turns on his heel, whipping out his phone as he removes himself before the hot, bubbling jealousy can boil over in front of these strangers.

He thinks he hears Harry hiss  _get’im_  as he leaves.  Darren flips him off.  Harry laughs and the party continues without him.

_To Chris:  
Back right hallway. Now._

Back pressed flat to the wall of a short darkened hallway with three closed doors Darren tries to catch his breath, tries to tamp down the fiery adrenaline before he loses his grip.  He shoves his phone back in his pocket and flexes his fingers, knuckles turning white with the fight against impulsively punching the drywall. 

 _This is Naya’s house, this is Naya’s house,_  he reminds himself, trying to rationalize with the pounding pulse in his forehead and chest and fingertips that’s out for  _blood_. 

And oh god this is  _Naya’s house_ , her house full of their friends who all probably just saw Darren act like a complete possessive asshole, and also a bunch of people Darren’s never met who think he’s certifiably insane, and then  _that bastard_  that thinks he can  _touch Darren’s boyfriend_  and not get his ass handed to him—he holds his fists tighter, feeling the bones shift and pop and trying to breathe slow, trying to hold on.

“Darren?”

Before the word is fully out of his mouth Chris is pulled by two hands fisted in his sweater, pinching at the skin below in their haste to pin him against the wall.  Lips are immediately attached to his neck, kissing and licking under his jaw as dark curls tickle his ear.  Fingers trace over the strip where sweater meets denim and his toes curl in his shoes.

“Darren,” he gasps, this time more breath than word, only a little questioning and a lot intrigued.

A low, deep rumble is the only response, and Chris almost laughs.   “Darren did you—did you just  _growl_  at me?”

“ _Mine._ ” 

And that time Chris understands, his next playful tease catching in his throat and turning to a desperate whine.

Darren takes the encouragement, moving down to the short pink scar on his neck, sucking what Chris knows will be a dark, perfect hickey he’ll never be able to hide.  Chris stretches his neck, letting the heat curl and twist low in his belly and spread out through his veins, shoving up Darren’s shirt to stroke over smooth skin and pull his nails down twitching muscles.

He gasps when Chris’s fingers dip below his waistline and Chris switches tactic, tugging on the blissfully grown-out hair at the back of his head and pulling Darren’s face up to finally get at his lips.

Darren’s sharp inhale at the first touch of their lips sends a wave of rolling heat straight to Chris’s cock and he groans, dragging Darren’s bottom lip through his teeth.   He tries to dive back in but Chris keeps him away with the hand in his hair, waiting.  Darren’s harsh breaths mingle with his own, and with the blood rushing in his ears and pulse pounding in his throat, the noise of the party just two pieces of sheetrock behind them seems miles away.

Chris smiles at his confusion, teasing again with a soft kiss to his top lip.  He leans in close, noses touching and lips just a hair’s breadth apart, then runs his hands up under rumpled silky cotton until he’s cupping Darren’s shoulder blades, pulling him closer until they’re flush at the hips, chest, and mouth. 

 _“Yours,”_  he whispers, the word harsh in his throat.

With a strangled cry Darren pushes in open-mouthed, already working to get his tongue past Chris’s lips.  Chris gives it right back, letting each drag of lips and tongue turn dirtier and filthier, keening and pressing his fingertips in hard enough to draw gasps that he can feel in exhales fanned across his face.

Fingers squeeze bruises into his hips, then his upper thighs, and the gentle tugs tell Chris everything he needs to know.  Never breaking the kiss, he pulls his hands out from under Darren’s soft shirt.  The way Darren shivers at the drag of skin, the loss of heat swells his heart until it aches in his chest.  Anchoring his intertwined hands around Darren’s neck, he wraps one leg, then the other around his waist and locks his ankles tight together.

Darren pulls his lips away to stretch his head back and moan outright, pushing Chris more firmly against the wall.  He cries out softly, just a tiny whine in a huge exhale when his exposed overheated skin drags rough on the wallpaper.  Pressing his laced fingers to Darren’s damp hairline, Chris guides their lips back together, chasing the waves of tingling, prickling desire they invoke through his entire body.

Involuntarily their hips seek each other out, and it’s the first delicious grind of their hard cocks that brings Chris back to reality, the party suddenly very loud and very present just around the corner.

He pulls his lips away, gasping to try and get back his breath.  “ _Darren._   Darren, honey, we can’t do this here.”

His hazel eyes are so dark in the dim light, still too intense the way they get every time they get too lost, tangled up in each other.   Chris strokes his cheek, just lightly, bringing him back.  “Let me down, sweetie.  Big party going on, remember?  100 of our closest friends?”

Darren blinks and the ferocity is gone, instead lowering his eyelids in sheepish realization.  “You mean 100 landmines we have to dodge,” he counters, loosening his death grip on Chris’s thighs and helping him plant his feet back on the floor.

“Or that,” Chris concedes, cradling Darren’s head in his hands, not quite ready to let go yet.

“I’m sor—” Darren gets out before Chris silences him with a kiss, and then another for good measure.

“Don’t you dare apologize.  First of all, it was sort of my fault for letting those guys flirt with me.  But it’s really tough to give them a good enough reason to back up when I can’t just say  _hey, my boyfriend is right across the room, back off asshole._ ”

Darren laughs humorlessly, shaking his head a little.  Chris’s chest tightens, all the unsaid words threatening to choke him off.  This is not the place to talk about this, this fine line they walk every time they’re out in the public eye together.

“Second of all,” he starts again, trying to lighten the mood and smiling in that way he knows gets Darren interested, “it was  _really_  hot.”

Jaw slackened and eyes round, Darren grips Chris’s hips tightly, rumbling low in his chest again.

Chris just laughs easily, leaning in to press their foreheads together.  “Always yours.” 

He punctuates the statement with one last kiss to Darren’s lips, lingering longer than he should.  Smoothly he slips out of Darren’s grip, taking deep breaths to gather himself before he goes back out to the party.

Darren’s voice, stops him just before he turns the corner, clear and cocky and always brimming with implications.  “One hour and fifteen minutes, Colfer.” 

Chris raises an eyebrow, waits.

“One hour and fifteen minutes, and then I’ll make sure you  _know_  you’re mine.”


End file.
